Fatima's Diary

reflections for the lost

35. Eagle Eyes

The area around the town, from above, was strangely peaceful. I knew that there was turmoil brought about by some strange and twisted ritual below, a ritual that had twisted the minds and perhaps the souls of the townspeople infected. The town itself was surrounded by an eery empty cleared area, used for crops and cleared also for safety. A tiny buffer of emptiness blotting out the green swaying mass below, harboring an empty and apparently lifeless town. A lifeless town bathed by the shining of the sun.

After making a quick scouting fly-through, I reported that the town was in severe disrepair and several buildings had been boarded up and the shutters pulled tight. We carefully crept into the town and discovered the Inn was full of people, talking in gibberish and doing things we could hear, but not see. The Inn shutters were drawn, and quite honestly we haven't opened that bag of insane and possibly hostile worms yet. The Sheriff's house was deserted, with the bottom floor obviously broken into. The top floor had a window left open, with the look of weapons hastily collected for flight. Our conclusion was that the insane townsfolk must have broken into the bottom floor as he fled from the top window, to safety. Charles led us to the Mayor Tumbrin's house, and there we discovered our fears were correct.

The top floor of the Mayor's house was abandoned, but not so the cellar. We fought Spriggans there, which in our experience is a signpost for the Cult of Arawn. My worst fears for Charles' safety and family were coming true. Finding Mayor Tumbrin drunk and huddling in a hidden cubbyhole in the cellar did not bring me any real relief. Once he had a grip on his wits, he introduced himself as Mayor Donal Tumbrin. Although he did not know the nature of the Cultists, he confirmed that they had arrived in the guise of Roma and performed their mind-twisting dance upon a majority of the populace. It was like a high festival day, and everyone from even the far outlying farms had come to see the spectacle. I doubt that many of them returned to their homes. We escorted Mayor Tumbrin back to Charles' family house, where we had left him with half my companions for guards. When we returned, we discovered there was another warrior there, not of our band, with his armor and swords readied. Then Donal introduced us to Cheswyth Morinauld, the Sheriff and expert tracker of the town. He appeared a capable man of the woods, describing the location of different buildings and sightings of cult members. With his assistance we were able to hastily scratch a map of the town and region around him.

I winged up into the air like a sparrow and swooped high to survey the land. The shire itself was a collection of a few buildings, and to the south was a small, two storied winery with two wagons outside of it. Further to the north was a camp of townsfolk who numbered in the hundreds. At first glance, it looked orderly, but upon a second, lower sweep of the area, it was clear the camp was in a state of drunken chaos. All of them appeared enspelled by the Cultists. By the time I got back to my companions, Grayn and Cheswyth had foundthe Roma's wagon tracks. We followed them, and they led to the winery, as I had observed from above.